


I'm Having a Party

by isindismay



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isindismay/pseuds/isindismay
Summary: Vince notices that Howard has not been the same since the disastrous party he threw for his birthday, and decides that another party is just the thing to cheer him up.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Bringing Back the Boosh 2020 Fic Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pimmie23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimmie23/gifts).



> Thanks to BobSkeleton for beta reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard is in a deep state of melancholy even for him. It takes a while, but even Vince starts to notice.

“Hey, Howard, are you coming up on the roof?” Vince said, tapping Howard on the arm.

“No, Vince, not now.” Howard turned around to continue doing a stocktake, or at least pretended to.

“I feel a new song coming on,” Vince said, rubbing his hands together and jigging about. “I was gonna go up there to get some inspiration from the moon.”

Outside, The Moon turned his white creamy face around. “I don’t know nuffin’. Less you wanna know what Jupiter’s been up to.” His eyes darted about. “Can’t tell you actually. It’s disgustin’. I’m The Moon!” With a creak he turned his back.

“What’s up with you, Howard? You usually love getting up on the roof. What did you say about it? It’s like being in heaven without having to turn into a ghost first.”

Howard looked thoughtful. “I did say that. But no, Vince, I will never again set foot upon its gloomy tiles. Not now that it holds so many bad memories for me.”

“Oh don’t be like this, Howard,” Vince said. “Bad memories?” He scoffed.

“Yes, Vince, bad memories. Bad memories you know very well, sir!”

“Oh no, this isn’t still about the-“

“Don’t say it.” Howard looked away dramatically and covered his face.

“Oh, you’re not still going on about that are you?”

“I am a sensitive soul. Maybe a simple fool like you could easily stop thinking about it, but not I, sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course I could. I’d just start thinking about Gary Numan. Or have a look at my hair in this mirror,” Vince said, drawing a hand mirror out of his pocket and admiring himself in it. “Look at it, it’s genius!”

“That’s your problem, Vince, isn’t it? You can’t take anything seriously. You’re like a marshmallow unicycle.”

Vince laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Look, Howard, it was only a joke. You need to get yourself a sense of humour. Get Leroy to get you one next time he goes down the Cash and Carry. He’ll get you a good deal. Cash and Carry…”

Howard could never resist a good crimp, and joined in and bobbed from side to side with Vince.

“Cash and Carry,” they sang together. “Carry your cash in a great big satchel. Get your rice in a great big sack. Naan bread. Naan bread by the kilo. Toilet paper. Kitchen paper. Wallpaper. Yeah!”

Howard sighed. “You just don’t get it, Vince,” he said as he walked off.

“Howard, where you going?” Vince said, going after him.

“To be alone with my thoughts. Must you follow me around like some kind of psychedelic hound dog?”

Vince laughed. “Psychedelic hound. Genius! I’m putting that down on my list of song titles. Hey, Howard, where you going? The roof?”

Howard turned around. “Yes I’m going to the- no, I’m going somewhere else actually.”

“Whatever,” Vince said as Howard left the shop with a jingle of the bell on the door.

Before he went out on the roof, Vince had to re-do his hair. It had been a while since he backcombed it and it was getting a little flat.

Two hours later, he wandered into the living room. Naboo had his feet propped up in his curly slippers and was watching Eastenders. 

“Hey, Naboo, you seen Howard?” 

Naboo looked up. “Not recently. But he does tend to blend into the background.”

Vince pushed up a bit of hair that seemed to be falling down. Not opening that second can of hairspray had been a mistake. “It’s just that he said he was going somewhere, and I thought it would be here. Where else would he go?”

Bollo lumbered in with a can of Pringles. “Howard? I seen him ‘round by the bins.”

“Oh no. What’s he doing round there?”

Bollo shook his head. “Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

“I think I do!” Vince said, heading to look out of the window that faced the back of the building. He saw Howard out there, standing by the bins. He looked like he was talking to someone, but there was no-one else there. Vince laughed to himself. Now Howard was pacing about and waving his arms around. Vince shook his head. What was he doing? Now he was crouching down with his head in his hands. He opened the window and was about to ask him what he was up to, but then he heard Howard weeping loudly. He shut the window.

Vince didn’t feel like going up on the roof any more. He was no longer in the mood to write lyrics. Somehow it didn’t seem like it would be much fun without Howard anyway.

*

The next day, during a quiet period in the shop, Howard was kneeling down by Stationery Village. “-so you see my predicament,” he said mournfully, after he had finished telling them his sad tale. “If any of you might have a bit of advice for me, I’d be awfully grateful.”

One of the pencils rolled over to look at him, grunting with the effort. “Oi, mate, shut up. We’re tryna have a kip over here.”

Howard sighed. “Sorry.”

“Hey, Howard, what are you doing? You’re scaring the customers.”

Howard looked around at what seemed to be an empty shop except for them. “What customers?”

Suddenly three people emerged from the walls. Their psychedelic outfits had made them blend into the wallpaper and the rainbow spectrum of goods on what had become Vince’s side of the shop. Howard watched them bound over to Vince with armfuls of items to purchase. They chatted animatedly about trivial things. He couldn’t tell if any of the customers were male or female, but Vince and his crowd didn’t seem to worry about the distinction.

“Hey, Howard, watch the shop for a bit, will you?” Vince said. His circle of doppelgangers had taken him by the arms and were leading him off.

“But Vince, what if we get a rush on?”

Vince laughed. “As if that’s gonna happen. You ain’t suddenly gonna have eighteen people all wanting muffin coloured elbow patches.”

Howard looked affronted. “We might.”

“Well, I’m sure you can handle it. Something big’s happenin’ down Camden, can’t miss this.”

“And you didn’t think to invite me?”

“They wouldn’t let you in dressed like that, mate,” one of Vince’s friends said.

“Nah, the fashion police’d be right on you, throw you in fashion prison,” Vince agreed.

“No defence will get you outta there,” said another of his friends.

“It’s nice that you hang out with your Dad, Vince,” said a third. “Even if he is a bit weird.”

“I’m not his Dad!” Howard said, as the door banged and jingled behind the laughing group. “Weird? Who are you to call me weird?” He sighed and turned back to Stationery Village. “Do I really look like someone’s Dad?”

All he heard was exaggerated snoring from Stationary Village. He leaned on the counter, and waited for some more customers. Just one person looking for elbow patches in any of his range of colours might be enough to cheer him up a bit.

Hours went by, and only one person came into the shop, but they had mistaken it for a fancy dress shop, so Howard spent ten minutes explaining in detail how to reach the nearest one, until the lady got tired of him talking and left.

It was only afterwards that he realised that he had missed a potential sale there. He could have sold her some of Vince’s ridiculous clothes. He hadn’t thought about it at the time, because Vince didn’t really consider them fancy dress outfits. Vince didn’t do fancy dress. Or if you looked at it another way, he did it every day. Howard had shot a few sneaky glances at him today, systematically working down from the top of his mullet to the heels of his silver iridescent winkle pickers. His outfit, while ridiculous, nicely accentuated his figure and showed off his personality.

“Oh, Vince, why did you have to turn a light on in my heart only to walk out of the room?” Howard said to no-one in particular.

“Shut uppppp,” hissed somebody from Stationery Village.

An idea was forming in Howard’s mind. He glanced at the door. Did he dare? Some people walked past the shop window but didn’t come in. He hesitated, but then hurried over to the rack of clothes before his bravery left him.

He caught a glance of himself in the full length mirror surrounded by the hippest icons from the 60s through 80s, for inspiration. He was currently wearing a beige polo neck under a dashing tweed jacket with elbow patches in a daring muted gunmetal, paired with a pair of smart nutmeg khakis and brown shoes that were polished but not so much it made them showy. 

He took off his brown fedora and turned to the rack of clothing. The colours and styles looked almost normal on Vince, but would he be able to find something he could reasonably wear? He pulled out a mirror ball suit. Definitely not that one.

Vince returned much later, wearing a massive smile. “Hey, Howard, you’ll never guess what happened! Why are you hiding behind the counter? Look, I brought you a Twix! I got a bit hungry on the bus home so I ate one of them.”

“Thanks,” Howard said. The first thing Vince noticed was the silver sparkly eyeshadow he had applied inexpertly. The next was the studded fingerless glove on the hand that reached out for the Twix.

“Howard, have you done something to your hair? You’ve been borrowing my straighteners, haven’t you?”

“No,” Howard said, flattening his hair down self-consciously. 

Vince grinned. “Yeah you have. That’s definitely a Nicky Clarke burn on your ear. You’ve been having a little dress up while I’ve been away, haven’t you?”

Howard picked up the open Twix and took a bite of it. He had been so absorbed in trying out a new look he had forgot to eat lunch. He stepped out from behind the counter. He had found a beige PVC all in one suit that Vince noticed was very tight in certain places. Underneath he was wearing an extravagant red shirt with a pointy collar, and completed the look with brown cowboy boots.

“What do you reckon?” he asked, looking nervous.

Vince picked up the rest of the Twix and munched on it while he took a minute to fully take in his friend’s outfit. “What are you meant to be, Howard?”

“What do you mean? This is just a regular old Howard Moon outfit, yes indeed, sir.”

“I mean, points for trying, but I don’t think it’s really working for you, is it?” Vince walked around him and saw that the suit was even more ill-fitting in the back. He picked up a piece of Howard’s hair. “This is the most limp I’ve seen your hair. Don’t think straighteners are for you, mate. Need to make the most of that little bit of a wave you’ve got going on. Did you even try the root boost?”

“I didn’t have the right protective equipment to use that,” Howard said, shifting about from foot to foot. “I’m gonna have to take these shoes off, they really hurt. How do you manage to wear completely triangular shoes?”

“File me feet down, don’t I? All the mods do it.”

Vince noticed that Howard looked really dejected when he sat down to struggle out of the cowboy boots. He searched for something to say to try to cheer him up.

“What happened to that girl you liked? What was her name?”

“Oh, I never asked her. Wait, she’s your mate, you should know.”

Vince shrugged. “Dunno, think her Dad’s some musician. What happened with her then? I thought you really liked her.”

“Oh. It didn’t work out.”

“She chucked you, didn’t she?”

“We didn’t have that connection anyway,” Howard said, taking off the fingerless gloves.

“What connection? What are you on about?” Vince said, laughing.

“You know, the one where you know this person is your destiny, that you’re fated to be together for eternity.” Howard clutched his hands to his chest and the PVC squeaked.

“You’re not right.”

“Just because you have the emotional depth of a half rotten satsuma! You wouldn’t recognise true love if it’d be staring you in the face for ten years.”

“I think I would. It’d be a bit creepy though, hovering there all in my periphery the whole time.”

There was a long silence.

“Vince?”

“Yeah Howard?”

“Can you help me up? I can’t bend in this thing.”

Vince laughed and covered his face. Howard held his arms out, and Vince went and helped him to his feet.

“How’re you gonna get out of it?” 

“Oh, I already checked, there’s some butter in the fridge.”

Vince made a face as Howard squeaked off upstairs. There was no doubt about it, Howard was going wrong in a bad way. Part of him just wanted to watch it happen and have a laugh. But another part of him wanted to do something to cheer his mate up. He had no idea what. That, he was going to need some help with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince tries to figure out what's wrong with Howard and asks all his mates for some advice on how to cheer him up.

Vince knocked on Naboo’s door. He was ironing one of his robes in the tiny room. “Naboo, my man.”

“Hey, Vince, what can I do for you?”

Vince scratched the back of his neck. “You noticed anything different about Howard lately?”

“Only that he crammed himself into one of your jumpsuits yesterday. That’s gonna stick in your mind for a bit, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean like in terms of clothes. Like, you know…” Vince pointed at his head.

“Oh yeah, he’s completely screwed. What a ballbag.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to help?”

“Like a potion or summat? Yeah can probably knock summat up, only gonna last so long though, yeah?”

Vince leaned on the doorframe. “I was actually thinking of something a bit more, you know, permanent? Like, cheer him up for good, sorta thing.”

“The Shaman Council doesn’t allow stuff like that. Otherwise we’d all be going round dead happy and we can’t have that, can we? Never get anything done.”

Vince sighed.

“What you so bothered about Howard for anyway? You’re usually calling him a scruffy old Northern bastard.”

“Dunno,” Vince said, before he really had a chance to think about it.

“Don’t start fancying him, yeah? You’re well out of his league.”

Vince laughed. “I’m not gonna start fancying Howard at the drop of a hat. That’s mental!” He tried to imagine what that would be like, but only for a few moments because he started thinking about hats. He hadn’t put one on yet today and was already mentally assessing which one would go best with his outfit.

*

“’oward?” Bollo said, shaking his head. “Nah, there’s nuffin’ you can do there.”

“Come on, Bollo, you’ve gotta help me.”

“You tried giving him banana?”

“Well, no, but what’s that gonna do?”

“Bananas always good to cheer Bollo up. Got any on you?”

“Why would I have any bananas on me?” Vince gestured at his outfit. “You think this thing has pockets? It’s skin tight, mate.”

“Hey, Vince, I heard a rumour you is bumming ‘oward. Is it true?”

“Who’ve you heard a rumour off? You’ve got dead lazy, you never even go out any more.”

“Is written on front of shop.”

Vince laughed and looked sheepish. “Oh yeah. Wouldn’t believe that though.”

*

The shutters were still down on the shop when Vince went downstairs. Howard was outside with a sponge and a bucket. When he saw Vince, he brandished the sponge and shook soapy water at him.

“Hey, watch my hair!” Vince said, putting his hands up to defend himself.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Howard said, dropping the sponge into the bucket.

Vince looked at the faded graffiti on the shutters. “Well, it might not be true, but it is pretty funny, you gotta admit it.”

“What’s funny about this? You’re making everyone think I’m your little bitch.”

Vince smirked. “How do you know I did it anyway?”

“Don’t lie to me, sir. We both know there’s only one grafitti artist around these parts and it’s not little old Mrs Craddock from the fruit and veg stand.”

“Leave it up. I think it gives the place a nice bit of colour.”

“Colour is your department, my friend. If everyone else in a mile radius stopped wearing colours, we’d still have more colours per capita than any other district.”

Vince was grinning now. “Nice of you to notice, Howard.”

“Well, if you’re so grateful, you can help me with this,” Howard said, lobbing the wet sponge at Vince, who caught it.

Vince held the sponge up as if it was a poorly tied bag of dog poo. “I don’t think so. These hands don’t touch washing up liquid, not even in marigolds. Gotta keep my skin smooth and perfect, I’m a hand model in Cheekbone, don’t you know?”

“I do know. You keep shoving pictures of your hands in my face. As if I want to see your hands cutting up a scone or embalming a sparrow when I’m trying to eat my shredded wheat?”

“’Course you do, I know you’re just pretending not to be interested. You’re interested in everything I do.”

“I’m not interested in anything you do. I’ve not had any less interest in a human being since Gary Shoe kept coming round to the shop.”

“Oh yeah, remember him? With his nine hundred pairs of identical shoes he pushed around in that shopping trolley?”

Howard groaned.

“None of ‘em were even in my size. They were dead small, like for borrowers or something,” Vince said, demonstrating the size by pinching his fingers together.

“So the least you can do is help clean this mess up,” Howard said, pointing to the graffiti.

“I’ve had enough of this, I’m going out.” Vince held the sponge out like it was an unexploded bomb, and handed it to Howard. He backed away.

*

Vince ended up at the Velvet Onion. When they worked at the Zooniverse, he would often go to Bob Fossil for advice, after he had asked Howard, and Joey Moose, and Mrs Gideon, and in fact everyone else on the staff, and some of the visitors too.

In his office, Fossil was dancing luridly to I Can’t Explain by The Who. Vince stood there and endured several minutes of this, before Fossil stopped the tape and said. “And that’s why I can’t explain.”

“Right,” said Vince.

“Have you come to bring me some of your sweet, sweet monkey music?” Fossil asked. He pulled out his tape recorder and spoke into it, “Note to self: sweet, sweet monkey music.”

“Not today,” said Vince. “I’m worried about Howard. He seems all mopey. You know how he gets.”

“I recommend you grab him and give him a great big passionate kiss on the mouth. That’s what I always did to Mr Bainbridge when he was down in the dumps.”

“Wasn’t that just before he sacked you and filed that restraining order against you?”

“That was never proven!”

“Er, I think it was. It was in all of the papers.”

“Are you two having a little lovers’ tiff?”

“What? No,” Vince said with a scoff.

“Oh no, Vincey, don’t hurt me like that! Stop pulling on my hair when you shampoo it with the salad cream! Oh, wait, no, yes, a little to the left. You’re my little bath time buddy, yes you are.”

Vince just frowned at Fossil. “You know what, I don’t know why I even came here,” he said, heading towards the door.

Vince dilly-dallied around town for a while, popping in to see Leroy at the Ice Rink, and signing a few autographs for fans who recognised his hands from Cheekbone.

He arrived back at the Nabootique just as Howard was pulling the shutters down again. Despite Howard’s efforts, the graffiti was still clearly visible.

“And where have you been?” Howard asked him.

Vince quickly hid the Topshop bags behind his back. “Oh, I had to go and see Fossil. Has some important things to talk to him about. You know, about the band?”

Howard squinted his eyes. “Now let me get this straight, you went to see Fossil about the band, without me, the only other member of the band?”

Vince nodded. “Yeah.”

“And this took all day?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’ve clearly had a hard day. You’d better go and lie down and rest before dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll make it, as usual. And I won’t even ask you to dry the plates and put them away, because I know you always forget.”

Vince smiled. “Thanks Howard,” he said, and wasn’t sure why Howard was still frowning when he said that. Must still be in a mood, Vince reasoned.

*

Later, Vince noticed Howard was missing again. This time he knew where to find him. Just as he suspected, he found Howard leaning on a bin. This was bad. He was singing by himself. That was never a good sign.

“You make me feel things I’ve never felt, my love  
You make me dream things I’ve never dreamt, my love  
You make me hope for a future that isn’t lonely  
I hope one day you’ll see and you’ll hold me

What can I do without you  
(I can’t do anything)  
What can I say without you  
(I can’t say nothing)  
What can I think without you  
Only thoughts of you  
And only you  
Until I shrivel up and die.”

Vince found himself smiling. He came out from where he was hiding around the corner and clapped. Howard jumped cartoonishly when he saw him. “Who’s that song about then?”

Howard’s face made several expressions, none of which Vince could identify. “You know who it’s about, you berk,” he said.

“Oh, that girl. The one who’s name you didn’t ask. That’s embarrassing.”

“No sir, this song is not about her. It is about someone much closer to home.”

“Not little old Mrs Craddock? She’s got a husband, you know,” Vince said, pointing a finger at him. “He’d put a move on you if he heard you singing like that about his wife. And I’ve seen some of his moves! He’d wallop you into next week.”

“No it’s not about Mrs Craddock!”

“Who’s it about then? Go on, you can tell me.”

“Well if it’s not obvious, it clearly needs a rewrite,” Howard said sullenly, folding his arms.

“Don’t be like this, Howard.”

“Go on, off with you. Go and put a face mask on before bed while you’ve still got the energy.”

“Aww, that’s so considerate of you to think of me like that, Howard.”

Howard turned away and struck a pose with his arms crossed. “That’s me, Howard Moon, man of consideration.”

“Ha, yeah.”

“Vince?”

“Yeah?” Vince turned back around.

“Are you sure you don’t know who my song was about?”

“No, ‘course I don’t. You could’ve put their name in there. Might make it a bit more obvious.”

Howard sighed. “But then it wouldn’t be very deep and poetic, would it?”

“Yeah, you’ll end up in a deep and poetic hole on your own at this rate, mate. Go on, tell us.” Vince put a hand on his arm.

Howard looked at his hand on his arm for a few moments. “No. You go in, Vince. I have some things to talk about with The Moon.”

The Moon creaked around. “I was in love once. Yes, even The Moon falls in love. He was dead nice, kept winking at me. I tried to wink back but I couldn’t get the co-ordination right. Look,” The Moon laughed and blinked both eyes. “See. Just can’t do it! One day, he come right near and I can finally see his face. And he was the International Space Station. Said he’s in love with all of them people living on him. Didn’t wanna get involved after that.” He turned back round again.

*

Vince was sitting in front of the mirror and putting his face mask on. He realised that today had been a great big failure in coming up with ways to make Howard cheer up. No-one had any good suggestions at all. Not even Leroy, and he could usually be relied upon for things like that. All they’d suggested was that there was something going on between him and Howard, which was totally ridiculous. As if he’d go for some moustachioed Northern berk? Well, Howard did make him laugh. And Vince appreciated how nice he was to him. And Howard had held the fort at the shop for two days in a row and had hardly complained about it.

But no, Howard Moon and Vince Noir? That would never work. They had had that one moment on the roof, but only because Dennis was going to kill him otherwise. Now that he thought about it, after that was when Howard had properly started going wrong. He must have been upset about his party. He hadn’t seemed to like it much. 

That was it! Vince had an idea. He would throw Howard a new party, and he would make sure this one didn’t go disastrously wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

I’m Having a Party  
Chapter Three

When Vince came downstairs wearing a coat, Howard didn’t think anything of it. Indoor coats could have caught on overnight for all he knew. But instead of saying good morning, he said, “Later, Howard!” and walked straight past him.

“What’s your excuse today, eh? The flamingos are holding a breakdancing competition? Elton John stole your mum’s best teapot?”

“No, ‘course not! I’ve got some important shopping to do, that’s all.”

“Vince. You work in a shop, surrounded by all the sort of nonsense that you like. What could you possibly be going to purchase in another establishment?”

Vince shrugged. “Bicycles for hamsters?” he hazarded.

Howard shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

He watched as Vince walked out and left him alone for a third day in a row. Leaning dejectedly on the counter, he wondered if Vince was avoiding him. Apart from all this going out during business hours stuff, he thought he’d been acting pretty much the same as normal.

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t keep his mind off that moment they had together on the roof. He’d never really thought about Vince that way before. Vince was his best mate, had been for ten years. And all right, he had to admit that Vince was good looking, in a garish sort of way, but Howard had always thought he had just been secretly a bit jealous of his daring fashion sense and how it accentuated the features he had been blessed with. Not like he actually fancied him or anything. But that kiss had made him face facts. Yes sir, it had.

That one kiss had sparked feelings in him that he never thought it was possible to feel. Now his feelings for Mrs Gideon and whatever-her-name-was, Vince’s mate, paled in comparison. Whenever he tried to even recall their faces in his mind, Vince elbowed them out of the way.

And now Vince was avoiding him. Vince hadn’t seemed embarrassed, but maybe he was. He hadn’t noticed the subtle hints Howard had been dropping. Or perhaps he had, and was doing a pretty good job of pretending he hadn’t. Every so often, a little voice piped up in Howard’s head and said he should try to talk to Vince. But he ignored it, because everyone knows voices in your head can’t be trusted.

Howard knelt down next to Stationary Village. “What should I do, friends?”

“Right, that’s it! I’ve had enough,” one of the pencils declared, and started rolling towards the edge of the table, huffing and puffing the whole way.

“Don’t leave me with him!” another cried, and followed. Soon all of the pencils were rolling over to the edge of Stationary Village. Howard watched as they went over the edge and dropped down onto the floor one by one, then rolled towards the door slowly but surely. Howard sighed. Even the pencils didn’t want to know him.

The pencils reached the door and bumped into the bottom of it repeatedly.  
Howard chuckled. “Not so fast, little ones,” he said, going over to collect them.

*

_Come on, you’ve known Howard for ten years, you know what he’s like, Vince told himself. You don’t need anyone else’s help to organise a party._

Vince’s eye was immediately drawn to the window of _Vladimir Pumpkin’s_. “Oh, capes are back in fashion, genius!” Vince said to no-one in particular. “And look at those shoes! They would go with every outfit, yet at the same time elevate it from the mundane. Brilliant!”

He spotted someone with a great sense of style in the shop and pointed both his fingers at them. They returned the action right back to him, and then he laughed as he realised he was admiring himself.

Reluctantly, he dragged himself away from the all too tempting shop. He scoured the high street for any shop that might sell tweed balloons, or musical candles that played Weather Report. After half an hour of searching, the closest he was able to find was _Farmer John’s Pipe and Slipper Merchants_. But he felt that maybe that was going a little too far, even for Howard.

He was about to give up, when almost by magic, a large storefront appeared in front of him. _Jiminy Turnpike’s Jazz and Corduroy Emporium_. The J of Jazz was shaped like a saxophone. “This place is genius,” he whispered to himself, but still checked over his shoulder just in case anyone he knew was watching him go inside.

Vince was greeted by a vast, plaid-carpeted shop, filled with really rather dull items as far as the eye could see. He grinned to himself. Yes, he’d definitely find something for Howard in here.

A man swept towards him. He was well dressed, but well dressed in beige. “Jiminy Turnpike, at your service,” he said, taking a bow.

“All right?” Vince said, and reached out to touch the man’s fur trimmed waistcoat.

Jiminy swept out of the way, aghast. “The only rules of the emporium are you don’t touch me, and you don’t touch my clothing.”

“All right, all right, keep your wig on,” Vince said.

The shopkeeper adjusted his wig self-consciously. “You’ve got eyes for looking. Your hands are for keeping to yourself. Here, have a basket.”

As Vince reached to grab the basket, he noticed Jiminy Turnpike’s corduroy gloves. “Oh, those are genius, my mate Howard would love a pair like that.”

“Aisle fifteen,” the shopkeeper said, pointing with his walking stick.

Not wanting to get too far off track, and genuinely uninterested in shopping for anything for himself here, Vince headed straight to the party section, or _jamborees and shindigs_ as the overhead sign proclaimed. He was able to fill his basket with not only tweed balloons, but also a pack with a subtle dogtooth. Vince found himself smiling. With his natural sense of style, he found them ghastly, but they reminded him of Howard so part of him kind of liked them. The muzak in this place was somehow softer than soft jazz. It must be getting to him, Vince told himself. His head was starting to feel like oatmeal coloured candyfloss.

There was a whole section of banners decorated with famous jazz musicians. Vince knew that Howling Jimmy Jefferson was Howard’s favourite, so he added one of those to his basket. There was a tablecloth with a print that made it look like Happy Birthday confetti was sprinkled on top of it. Howard would love that, he hated mess. He also found some cups and plates that were somehow both reusable and compostable. 

There was not one but three aisles of hats, with a large section dedicated to fedoras. Vince couldn’t decide which one Howard would like the most, so he got three. Before he had even made it round half of the shop, he had to go and drag his overfilled basket back to the entrance and get a trolley instead.

By the time Vince reached the single checkout, which was manned by Jiminy Turnpike himself, Vince was struggling under the weight of the trolley. 

The lady in front of him in the queue turned around as he was madly trying to get everything out onto the conveyor belt before it was his turn.

“I saw you earlier,” she said with a deep, drawling voice like Nico’s. “I thought, this man does not belong here, but I was wrong, you are clearly a gentleman of distinguished tastes.”

“That’s my style, the jazz wanderer,” Vince said, hauling a crate of Mississippi Blues Ale out of the trolley.

“I used to be in denial too,” said the man behind him, who had a moustache, but it was nowhere near as good as Howard’s.

As the Nico soundalike in front of him paid for her variety pack of knee socks with trombones on them, Vince had an idea to ask her to Howard’s party. She seemed like Howard’s type of girl. She was female, after all. The thought that they might have something in common hadn’t crossed his mind. But he decided not to. She’d probably buy Howard a really good present and show him up. He wasn’t having that after he’d gone to all of this trouble.

“Can I interest you in one of these rings, for fifty percent off, with your purchase today?” 

“Yeah, why not?”

“Perhaps a subtle clouded sapphire to go with sir’s eyes?”

“Oh, this stuff isn’t for me. It’s for my best mate.”

“Oh yeah, that old chestnut,” said the man behind him.

“We at the emporium offer very reasonable prices on exchanges and alterations.”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Vince said, plucking out a ring with a small smoky quartz stone that would match Howard’s eyes, and not overshadow them in terms of size. “Howard doesn’t wear rings much but I know he’s a size P. This one looks right.”

“My wife doesn’t know my ring size,” the man behind him complained. “My wedding ring fell off and went down the drain years ago. She still hasn’t realised I’m wearing a scrunched up bit of tin foil.”

“Maybe a Q if it’s really hot and his fingers get all swollen up like them kinda balloons clowns make into animals,” Vince said, putting the ring down on the conveyor belt with the rest of his purchases.

It took Jiminy Turnpike some time to scan all of his items, and he ended up having to purchase four of the super premium grade bags for life, the ones with the little wheels on the bottom. 

“That’ll be six hundred and seventy one euros and forty three cents.”

“What!” Vince said. He looked in his vintage Gary Numan 1983 tour wallet, but he already knew he hadn’t got nearly enough. “Will you take an I.O.U.?”

“No, but I’ll take you-” Jiminy Turnpike declared.

“Oh, not this again,” Vince said.

“-as my assistant for the rest of the day.”

“Oh right, that’s not so bad.”

“I haven’t had a coffee break since 1971,” the shopkeeper told him as he stepped out from behind the counter.

“Don’t you close up at night?”

“Jazz never sleeps, Vince.”

Vince frowned and wondered how the shopkeeper knew his name. But he got behind the counter, and had to be talked through the whole process because at the Nabootique he tended to just sell things for whatever price he felt like, and there was no such thing as accounting on Xooberon so Naboo never checked.

Six hours later, Vince was getting tired. His ears were ringing from the constant beeping of the scanner. Who knew so many people in this town shopped for jazz and corduroy themed items all day long on a weekday?

He tried to bring up the subject of leaving with the shopkeeper, but Jiminy Turnpike wasn’t having any of it. Vince was getting scared. Maybe he had been kidnapped again, after all.

The next time Jiminy Turnpike left to go to the toilet (four hours later, the man must have had a bladder the size of a bowling ball) he decided to make a run for it. The long queue of customers he left at the checkout started grumbling very politely, but he ignored them and grabbed his bags.

It was very dark when he stepped out onto the high street, the moon was out, and most of the other shops were closed. He spotted the lights on in Topshop and he was drawn in like a magpie to a bit of tinfoil. When he came near, he knew he had made the right decision in coming this way. There were some brilliant drainpipes in clementine orange and acid green. He was just wondering whether they were actually still open when a group of people came out of the main door, the last person switching out the light.

“Vince! Fashionably late as always!” It was his friend Tommy. The one with the great afro which Vince didn’t like to admit rivalled his hair.

“You missed the lock-in,” said a girl carrying several shopping bags. In fact all of them were carrying bags.

“Oh yeah! Totally forgot. I’ll be there next time,” Vince said, trying to hide his own bags behind him.

But it was too late, Tommy had spotted them. “Jiminy Turnpike’s? That’s the least fashionable shop in town!”

“Yeah. Like, so untrendy,” said one of his friends.

“Jog on, these are for my best mate. It’s his birthday.”

“Oh, you got yourself another uncool best mate now? We went to your old best mate’s party last week,” Tommy said.

“Look guys, I’ve gotta go. Need to wash my hair. You know how it is.”

The group nodded, and he hurried off as fast as his four wheeled bags would allow him. That was close! He’d escaped the clutches of a psychotic shopkeeper, only to be almost outed as uncool. This might have been Vince’s worst day ever if not for the fact that he had got some brilliant presents for Howard. This was going to be the best party ever!

*

Howard went downstairs in his sensible striped pyjamas, stifling a yawn. It was late and Vince had still not returned from his shopping trip. He checked to make sure Vince hadn’t come home after all, and got stuck looking in a mirror or something. That had happened before. But no such luck. Howard sighed. He hoped the embarrassment hadn’t prompted Vince to run away to join the circus, or to stow away on a ship to start a new life as a cabin boy. He wouldn’t last two minutes. 

Howard realised how stupid he had been. Why couldn’t he just act normal? He’d been perfectly happy being mates with Vince for ten years now. A sudden knot formed in his stomach. He hoped nothing had happened to Vince. Why had he not thought of that before? For all he knew, Vince might have been run over by a steamroller, or put under a curse by an old woman he unwittingly wronged. 

Howard sighed and trudged back off upstairs. Halfway up he heard the sound of a key in the door. A sly look over his shoulder made his heart leap. It was Vince! Howard quietly hurried the rest of the way back upstairs, so Vince wouldn’t know he had been waiting up for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince has everything ready for the party, but the question is, is Howard ready for it?

“Naboo, where’d you send Howard off to? He’s been ages!” Vince said, as he climbed up on a chair to hang up the last jazz themed streamer. Bollo was fixing up the other end.

“I only sent him to pick up some bits,” Naboo said, “even if he went to the big Asda he should have been back by now.”

“Right, I’ll go and get changed.”

“But Vince, you already lookin’ good,” Bollo said.

“Thanks Bollo, but this is just my day look,” Vince said, pointing at his outfit, which made him look like a cowboy superhero. “I’ve got something special planned for my night look.”

Naboo looked at Bollo.

“I got a bad feelin’ about this,” Bollo said.

“What, Vince’s outfit?”

“No. ‘oward.”

“Yeah, wonder what he’s got himself into.”

*

When Howard finally made it back to the Nabootique, he was staggering in with two _Shamansbury’s_ carrier bags and looking rather dishevelled. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get you these, sir,” he said, handing the bags over to Naboo.

Naboo pulled a net of oranges out of the bag. “What do you expect, you ballbag? This ain’t their usual stock.”

“Well I know that now.” Howard moved his neck from side to side and winced.

“You should have gone round the Co-op, yeah?”

“You could have told me that before,” Howard said with a sigh.

“Howard! What happened to you?” Vince asked with a bit of a laugh. He strode over to Howard and pulled a twig out of his hair.

Howard just gaped at him. Naboo and Bollo looked at each other.

“Do you like it?” Vince said, spreading his arms to show off his evening look, which was a coffee coloured turtleneck, a tweed jacket which Howard was sure had some of his own nutmeg coloured patches on the elbows, brown shoes, and what were certainly the loosest trousers Vince had ever worn.

“It’s... a departure from your usual image,” Howard said, unnerved by the sight of a mirror image of him with better hair.

Vince laughed. “I know. Feel a bit silly actually, can I get changed?”

Howard nodded, then pointed with both hands and shouted after him, “There’s only room for one snappy dresser in here!” He looked at Naboo and Bollo, and then he looked around at all of the decorations and finally said, “What’s going on in here, then?”

“Vince decided to throw you another party, yeah?” Naboo said.

“Yeah, after you enjoyed the last one so much,” Bollo said.

Howard crossed his arms, but glanced around and took in all of the little details, including the large pile of presents in the corner. He tried to stop himself smiling. “Party? Not much of a party with only four of us. This is just a regular Saturday night with balloons.”

“Regular Saturday night for you, maybe,” Naboo said.

“Yeah, Naboo’s usually been sick in his turban at least once by now.”

“No need to tell everyone, Bollo.”

Vince came back downstairs wearing his usual assortment of bright colours and shiny fabrics. “So what do you think, Howard? Brilliant, huh?”

Howard sighed. “Yeah. Brilliant.”

Vince poked him in the arm. “You could try being a bit more enthusiastic about it!”

“Yeah. I didn’t really want another party, did I?”

“But this one’s different! It’s got all the things you like, and this time it’s just your best mates.”

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re not my best mates. My best mate got his head chopped off at the first party.”

“Lester Corncrake’s coming too.”

“Oh yeah?” Howard said sceptically. 

“Yeah! He’s on his way. He phoned a bit ago and said he left his head on the bus so he’ll be a bit late.”

“Where is he?”

“Edinburgh.”

Howard rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Well that’s what some kids told him anyway, he didn’t know if they were playing a trick on him.”

Howard looked at his watch. “Well, I must be going.”

“Howard! You can’t go. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Vince. I am not giving you another opportunity to humiliate me. I haven’t even had a chance to get over the last time.”

“Howard!” Vince yelled after him, but he had already gone.

Naboo and Bollo looked awkwardly at Vince, who shrugged. “All part of the plan,” he said, nodding to himself.

Vince decided to get into the party spirit while they waited for Howard to come back. He got Bollo and Naboo to unenthusiastically join in on a game of Pin the Moustache on Howard. He had intended to play it with Howard himself, but they used a plain peach balloon which looked exactly the same when Vince put a hat on it. Afterwards, Vince put on a jazz record, but quickly realised that he was the only one who was even pretending to enjoy it. 

“He’ll be back in a minute, yeah?” Vince said, as much to reassure himself as to the others. He was a bit annoyed that Howard had just left after he’d gone to all of this trouble. 

*

After a few hours of dancing ironically to jazz records, Vince went off to find Howard. He didn’t have to look far. Howard was sitting on the roof, his head in his hands. Vince heard his muffled sobs before he even saw him.

Vince held his arms out to steady himself as he walked across the roof. “Hey Howard! Are you crying?”

Howard sniffed and lifted up his head. “And what if I am? Isn’t a man allowed to be alone with his sorrows?”

Vince laughed. “You ain’t got any sorrows. You’re not starving to death in Africa or lost your keys down the drain.”

Howard shook his head and tutted. “Oh Vince, Vince, Vince, you just don’t understand the subtleties of human emotion,” he said. “Vince?”

“What? I wasn’t listening.” Vince was busy trying to see how long he could stand on one leg on the uneven roof tiles.

Howard sighed. “What do you want? You’re interrupting my melancholy thoughts. I could get a good song out of this, I’ll have you know.”

“I’ve come to get you. The party just ain’t the same without you.”

“Vince. I already told you. I didn’t want one party. Surely even you could figure out that I didn’t want another one.”

Vince sat down. “Oh come on, the first one wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad? Vince, my best mate got his head chopped off.”

Vince grinned guiltily. “Oh yeah. But I didn’t know that was going to happen.” 

“You shouldn’t have invited all of those people, Vince. All your friends. It was supposed to be my party, Vince. But it ended up being all about you. Just like it always does.”

“I was just giving the people what they wanted.”

“Your people maybe. My people are interested in deeper things than what Vince Noir is wearing today.”

“Oh come off it, Howard. I see you ogling my outfits every morning. Bet you’re thinking ‘I wish I could be even half that stylish’.”

“Not really, no,” Howard said. In fact, he was thinking quite different things indeed. Things like how it might feel to hold Vince in his arms. Probably a bit prickly from all of the sequins sticking in him, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

“Come on, Howard. Come to the party. I know you’ll like it once you get there.”

“You said I’d like the other party. But then you invited all of your mates. And you made me look a right fool in front of the girls.”

“There’s plenty of girls, Howard. I’m sure there’s some in London that you’ve not looked a fool in front of yet.”

Howard sighed.

Vince leaned towards him and bumped him with his arm. “We can go find some later. But tonight it’s just you, me, Bollo and Naboo. And Lester Corncrake. If he shows up.”

“You forgot to invite him, didn’t you?”

“You really have no faith in me, do you? ‘Course I invited him, his head and his body are just a bit separated right now like I told you.”

“I think I’ll just stay up here for a while.”

“Oh, don’t be like this, Howard.”

“I’ve still got a lot to think about from the last party.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Howard gazed off into the distance. “I realised I was in love.”

“Oh yeah?” Vince said, elbowing him. “Who with?”

“With you, you berk! I already told you. Don’t you listen to anything?”

Vince grinned guiltily. “Hey! Sometimes I do! But sometimes I just listen to what’s going on in my head. There’s a brilliant electro DJ that lives in there, he’s genius.” And then Vince was off doing a little dance with his arms to the music in his head.

Howard sighed. “And there you go, I tell you I’m in love with you and you just leave me dangling.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“And that’s the problem. The only person Vince Noir has ever loved is Vince Noir.”

“That’s not true!” Vince protested. “They call me the Romeo of Richmond.”

“Who does?”

“Lots of people!”

“Yeah, right.”

They fell into a brief silence. 

“I heard your song. The one you were singing round by the bins.”

Howard raised his eyebrows. “Did you? What did you think?”

“Well…” Vince began. “It might be all right if you add in some harsh modern beats. We can work on it later.” He tapped his hand on his leg. “Wait, was that about me?”

“Yes!” Howard sighed. “Honestly!”

“It’d be a bit more obvious if you put a line in about my hair.”

Howard took a deep breath. “Vince. I know you won’t understand, but my feelings run a bit deeper than what’s on the outside.”

“Oh, is this about that time I made you look down my throat because I thought my tonsils were possessed?”

“No. Not about what’s down your throat. This is about what’s in your heart.”

“They were as well. Remember? We had to call that tiny exorcist. He was a right nightmare!”

Howard smiled at the memory. “We’ve been friends for a long time. You mean a lot to me.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “What I’m trying to say is, there’s no-one else I’d rather have by my side.”

“I already knew that ages back.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, ‘course! We’re the ultimate combination. I was a bit worried when they had to close the Zooniverse. Thought you might go off to France to be a mime or something and then I’d be on my own. I’ve seen some of the other Northerners round here and their moustaches are rubbish.”

Howard hid his moustache self-consciously and shot a nervous sidelong glance at Vince. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Vince. We’re like yin and yang. From two different worlds but we’re meant to be together.”

Vince smiled. “Yeah! Like David and Goliath!”

“Well maybe not quite like David and Goliath.”

“Why?”

“Vince, I’ll explain later. Stop trying to ruin the moment,” Howard said. “I didn’t realise you cared, Vince. I thought it was just me.”

“You didn’t think I cared? You’ve got some nerve. I nearly got trapped in that weird jazz shop with that nutter forever!”

“What jazz shop?”

“Oh, you know, what’s it called? Jiminy Turnpike’s Jazz and Corduroy Emporium,” Vince said. “Near Dixons.”

“What are you on about? My friend, if there was a jazz emporium in this town, I’d know about it.”

Vince and Howard looked straight ahead for a moment at nobody in particular, then glanced at each other. 

“Where did you think I’d got all them decorations from?”

“Well, I do have to admit it, you did do a good job.”

“Hey, come on then, let’s get back to the party,” Vince said, patting Howard on the shoulder.

Howard still looked reluctant to get up. “I was hoping we could… spend some time together. Just us.”

Vince laughed. “Howard, what do you think we’ve been doing up here for the last hour and a half?”

“No, I meant…” Howard began, and then sighed. He turned to Vince and looked into his clueless blue eyes. He took hold of Vince’s scarf and pulled him closer.

Vince took Howard’s hand and prised it off his scarf to stop him creasing it. Howard’s fingers curled around his hand. His brown eyes were darting around nervously, like he was trying to send him some kind of awkward message.

“Oh, right. If you wanted a snog, why didn’t you just say?” Vince said. If it was even possible, Howard looked even more nervous. “What’s wrong? We’ve done it before.”

Howard looked away. “Yeah, but that time it wasn’t real, was it?”

Vince frowned. “It was real to me.”

Howard gaped at Vince, at a loss for words. Well this changed everything. All this time, he’d been thinking that the kiss had meant nothing. He felt such a fool. He estimated a good ninety percent of the people they encountered wanted to kiss Vince. But did he kiss them? No, sir, he didn’t. Howard put an arm around his shoulders and clumsily pressed his lips to Vince’s.

Wrapping his arms around Howard’s waist, Vince took control and kissed him back. He felt Howard’s other arm creep up to cradle his head. Vince worried about him messing up his hair but it felt quite nice, so he let this one slide.

When Howard finally pulled back from him, Vince started laughing and put his head on Howard’s shoulder.

“What?” Howard asked.

“Last time we did this, we fell off the roof.”

“Yeah, but you hired a bouncy castle, so it was all right.”

“Well I didn’t get one this time.”

“I’ll just have to keep a tight hold on you,” Howard said, squeezing him tighter. Vince snuggled against Howard’s chest. Howard let out a happy sigh.

*

It was many hours later when they finally made it down from the roof. 

“I thought you said Naboo and Bollo were staying for my party?”

Vince shrugged. “Must’ve gone out. Anyway, you’ve got all these to open.” He gestured at the massive pile of presents all wrapped in burnt orange and beige paisley paper.

Howard’s mouth dropped open. It took a while to open them all, even when Vince got tired of watching him taking so long and decided to help.

“This must have cost you a fortune!”

Vince smiled. “Yeah. It almost did.”

“What do you mean, almost?” Howard said, looking up from admiring his gifts.

“Well, I didn’t have the money, did I? So the shopkeeper said I could work off my debt, so I was like, all right.”

“So that’s why it took you all day!”

“Yeah! What, did you think I was shopping all day?”

“I did actually.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “As if even I could be out shopping that long!” he said. “Anyway, turned out the shop never closed and he was planning on keeping me there forever.”

“How did you get away?”

“Just waited for him to go to the loo, didn’t I. Then I ran away.”

“Do you think he’ll come after you?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Vince said.

“Well if he does, he’ll have to make it past me, Howard Moon, man of action!” Howard said, striking a pose, and then going over to put an arm around Vince’s shoulders.

Vince laughed. “He’s got no chance,” he said. “Did you like your presents?”

Howard nodded. “This really means a lot to me. I mean it.” 

“Can’t believe you thought I didn’t care,” Vince said, crossing his arms. Howard moved behind him to wrap both arms around him.

“You could have shown it,” Howard said, leaning his head against Vince’s.

“What are you on about, I always show it.”

“Do you?”

“Well maybe you need to start looking a bit harder,” Vince said, struggling out of Howard’s grip. He turned around, took hold of the lapels of Howard’s jacket and kissed him.

Howard often despaired at Vince’s cluelessness, but all of a sudden he felt like he had been the clueless one all along. He wondered how long Vince had loved him. But now was not the time for such questions. So, he thought, this was what it was like to hold Vince in his arms. Even nicer than he had imagined.

When they finally got tired of playing the jazz themed games that Vince had come up with, they settled down on the sofa under a blanket and watched a black and white French film. Vince didn’t understand it at all and quickly fell asleep. Howard watched until the end of the credits, then settled down next to Vince and closed his eyes. No doubt there would be some kind of inconceivable nonsense in store for them tomorrow. But with Vince by his side, he could face anything.


End file.
